The Book
Excerpt 4:
Early fruits of winter gardening appear.
March 1, 1998 — Gibsons, British Columbia
reap \'rep\ vb to cut with a sickle, scythe or reaping machine; to harvest; to enjoy the benefits of one's labours.
Throughout this same period of time, Colin and I manage the bumps in our relationship in much the same way we manage the bumps on a ski hill. Occasionally, we are thrown off course; sometimes we fall; sometimes we avoid a collision; still other times, we enjoy the exhilaration of good skiing. We spend most weekends together in Whistler either with, or without, Sarah. Weekends with Colin are the antithesis of my introspective weekdays at home.
Time spent with Colin keeps me grounded and ensures that I don't drown in the amorphous world of the feminine with its dreams, symbols and watery feelings. An important part of his gift to me is helping me remember my athletic sensuous self. I welcome these invigorating days and recognize that I need a balance of concrete objects and activities as much as I need cerebral satisfactions. Ski equipment, lift tickets, hot chocolate between runs, homemade lunches in the backpack, a soak in the hot tub, even the smell of sweaty socks and ski clothes, or the satisfying smell of sex, become soulful necessities.
Simultaneously, I draw upon his physical presence and those same qualities of logic, strategy and strength within myself as I work out the long-distance details of my up-coming workshop.
Enjoining myself with bumper-sticker philosophies, Feel the fear and do it anyway, or This is the time for the rubber to meet the road, I marshal my energies. In varying words, these slogans tell me, Just Do It! and I Just Do It! Confirm registrations, tend to housekeeping details, finalize travel plans. I'll be staying with my friend, Denise, and using a large comfortable den in her home for the workshop.
I arrive in Calgary a day early to unpack and settle in. I try to contain my excitement. As I begin the workshop the following morning, I feel deeply honoured to be presenting work that I am passionate about. Throughout the day, I remain relaxed yet alert, excited yet grounded. This is as natural as breathing! I am here! I am alive! I am real!
As I bring the day to a close, I invite each of the eight women present to share her thoughts. One woman, a counsellor herself, refers her comments directly to me. “You are an embroiderer in every sense. From the exquisite intricate works of art that you have used to depict the stages of Initiation, to the skillful way you weave our thoughts and comments into the tapestry of your work. Thank you for a powerful experience.” As I hear her remarks and those of other women, my soul wells with joy.
Yes, I intone silently, this is the sound of my soul singing.
Finally, I say to the group, “Thank you for the privilege of presenting my work. This has been a wonderfully rich day for me. Thank you for your generosity of spirit and your willingness to work in a deeply intimate way.”
Whether I've worked with eight or eighty women matters not. What satisfies me most is knowing that I have heard the whispers of the Winter Gardener and acted upon her wishes. Withstanding the rigours of the process, I have also gleaned new knowledge about a concept that has intrigued me for years, namely the integration of masculine and feminine energies within each individual. I now understand this idea more fully, not as an intellectual construct, but from my own experience.
It becomes clear. The feminine needs the masculine container to deliver results in the world, no more nor less than the masculine requires the feminine content as a way to serve the inner life. Through their union, the feminine receives backbone, the masculine, heart and soul.
I climb into bed that night feeling deliciously content yet still too churned up to sleep. I am also freezing because I have not packed a nightgown. Moments later I hop out of bed and pull on the same clothes that I've worn all day (and those that I intend to wear on my return trip home). Now wearing a long fleece skirt, mock turtleneck top and short boxy jacket, I jump back into bed and fall quickly asleep.
As I fly westward over the Rockies the next morning, I begin to appreciate the importance of this trip to Calgary and recognize that it marks the beginning of Rebirth, the final stage in the Initiation process. Like the initiate who returns to her community, often with a new name to reflect a new identity and a renewed sense of purpose, my return to Calgary brings me full-circle on this traditional archetypal path. I have left my city home to wander in an unfamiliar land; I have relinquished my real estate career and taken on a new professional identity; I have relinquished my role as wife and now stand alone. Presenting myself, at last, to my friends and associates, I am effectively asking for their blessing as I offer my gift, which not only makes meaning of my own ordeals, but also honours other women's experience. Symbolically, I have entered Rebirth.
